I don’t know if I believe her, but I smile at the expression all the same. “Not to sound ungrateful, but why are you here?”
She tucks her dark hair behind her ear and gives me a sheepish look. “I promised Lunatic I’d see how you are.” His name slices through me like his knife cutting through my wrists. Hot and painful. She studies me, her face guarded but a hopeful.
“I’m sure he’s forgotten all about me.”
Wishful thinking.
Gwynee places her perfectly manicured hand over mine, giving me a squeeze. “We all care about you.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “Thanks for checking up on me, but I’m okay.” I’m not used to anyone giving a shit about me. It makes me feel awkward. “How is he? Lunatic, I mean.” I ask even though I promised myself I wouldn’t.
She looks me over, then glances away. “He’s a mess. Keeps busy with his business and the club, but he’s not himself. Doesn’thave the same fire. You made an impression, lovely. He still talks about you. I think he misses you,” she says it so gently it hurts worse than a slap.
Heat creeps into my face at the idea of Lunatic talking about me to anyone, let alone Gwynee. “We only knew each other for about three days.”
“It doesn’t matter. Sometimes we meet someone and everything just clicks. You know?” Her gaze is steady. “Are you happy here?”
I take a breath. It’s the question I’ve been circling since I woke up here. “It’s not awful,” I say, which is true. “Better than Mexico. Hot Mama lets me work in the kitchen and at the bar. She’s tough but fair.”
Gwynee gives a small smile, as if she gets it.
“What about Sissy?” I nod toward the shed where Sissy’s trailing after Hot Mama, probably regretting her choice to tag along for this visit. Hot Mama doesn’t like idle hands, and Sissy gives me the impression she doesn’t like to get hers dirty.
“Calming down. But teenage girls think they have life all figured out.”
“Until it bites you in the ass.”
“Exactly.”
Gwynee doesn’t visit much more than an hour or two. She leaves with a promise to come back soon. I don’t know if I want her to. It’s not that I don’t like her. I do. She’s sweet, but she reminds me of Lunatic, and that makes me sad all over again for many different reasons.
Sometime Later
The crown tattoo behind my ear itches. It’s healing. I’ve been here for nearly three months. I know I can’t hide here forever. Eventually, I’ll have to answer to Hector. Face him. He’s going to want information. I have it. I know who he’s hunting. Where she is. How he can find her. At first, I didn’t understand why Hot Mama told me everything, but then I understood it perfectly. She wants me to tell him. Wants him to come. The woman is itching for a fight and backs down from no one.
I envy that about her. About all the women of QOAMC. Even the ones I’ve never met. We are all sisters. At first, I wasn’t sure I wanted to join, but the longer I stayed and the more I learned about who they are and what they do, I knew I wanted to be a part of something. To belong. To fight for those who can’t do it on their own. To give others what I never had. A family. A fighting chance.
Being here has healed something inside me. Parts of me that I didn’t realize were broken.
I can’t sleep tonight. There’s a breakfast shift at the main house so I should be resting, but my body is coiled up tight. Every muscle is tense, waiting for the next punch. The nightmares are manageable now, smaller background noise in my head, but the dark is always a bit too quiet and long for me. I slip out onto the porch where Pancake is chain-smoking, legs up on the railing like she owns the moonlight. She gives me a once-over and scoots a pack of Reds my way. I don’t smoke much, but tonight, I take one.
We sit in silence, just the crickets and a far-off coyote making themselves known. When my lungs settle, Pancake glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “Do you ever feel you traded one kind of cage for another?” she asks. Her voice is low, careful not to wake the rest of the house.
“Sometimes, but then I remember how far I’ve come and where I want to go.” The hardest part of recovery is learning to forgive yourself. That’s what’s hard. Sitting with your thoughts and facing each and every one of them.
“And where is that?”
The first answer that comes to my mind is Anarchy, California. To Lunatic. A man I shouldn’t still be thinking about, but he’s rooted himself in me like he’s a part of me. “Everywhere.”
“So you’ve decided?”
“I think so.” I crack my neck and take another slow draw from my cigarette.
“Good. Means you’re ready.” She gets up and whips her tank top off, followed by her shorts. “Full moon tonight,” she hollers as she runs around the yard naked.
I should have known, judging by the amount of mason jars full of water sitting all over. Pancake says moon water holds power. I’m not sure if I believe that, but I don’t question it.
I smile as she does some silly dance and chants to the stars up above, and I allow my mind to wander. To drift to that day at the lake with Lunatic.
